To Rita: Boy do we like mind games. Is it an example of our sick personas? Maybe. Kinda reminds me of "The Pit and the Pendelum." Do you read Poe?

The cat stared solidly at the mouse, evaulating as hard as it's little cat brain could. The mouse stared back from its position on the tile, little eyes wide and terrified, knowing that its morbid demise would come soon enough.
The cat blinked; oh, hello mouse, there you are.
It raised it's paw to strike, but then...

Because I really need the practice for a chapter I'm losing inspiration on... ^^;

~~~~~~~~~~~

Shadows seemed to creep around her as she walked down the alleyway. Her silken black hair fell down about a quater-inch past her shoulders as she pulled the blue ribbon out of it and threw it down. It was just one more thing that reminded her of what she was leaving behind...

Her emerald eyes scanned the alley as their normally sharp but happy gaze softened and became sad suddenly, memories flooding her mind's eyes. She stepped over the ashes of a dead monster and stood in front of a box on its side, the flaps torn and sagging from the rainstorm earlier that day. It was close to afternoon when she ran away; it was now evening, she realized. Her slender hand pressed on her forehead as she took a breath to get rid of a pounding headache which had been plaguing her for more than a week or so now.

Her breath slowed suddenly as she spotted a paw in the box, a paw made of cloth. She bent down and picked it up, and bit back a sob. It was her old stuffed kitten, Meowers. She'd never left it behind, and now look: it was all wet and smelly, but she just couldn't let go of it. She hugged it tightly, crying openly for the first time in a few years, sobs shaking her thin form as she cried, remembering all the years she'd lost, and the friends she'd left behind.

A warm hand rested itself on her shoulder, making her jump and turn around a little, sniffling. She couldn't smile at all, even though the person was none other than her brother, Kakaruo "Ruo-the-Rabbit" Ashford.

"Miya, are you okay?" he asked, concerned. He and the others had been looking all over for her, without any successes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I'm good now. ^_^ I hath found inspiration. Ith. xD This was based off a role play game I'm a part of on another site, and Miya ran away because... wait, I've explained that before. >_< _________________Best Quote Ever: "B&."- Said by multiple people.

It's interesting. Has an air of melancholy drama around it. (Not a drama fan here *shrugs* )

Another scene for a novel I've been mulling over -- including a reworked application of a classic myth:

"There it is again!"

Shadows flickered through the gibbous moon's light as hurried footsteps chased it between tall trees. Echoes of a loud roar collided from one tree to the next as they pursued.

"Damn, the thing's fast!"

More footsteps.

"We'll need reinforcements to put this one down...."

"No! We're here to help it, not kill it!"

The footsteps stopped abruptly. "Hold on... where did it go?"

One of the men illuminated the area with a flash of light, a small flame of a torch's size. He glanced around. "It's nearby... it has to be. I can almost feel it."

"The other man drew his bow, ready to nock an arrow across its center. "Can you tell what kind it is?"

"Not until we've had a good look. It's got to be resting right now... probably in pain... prepare a stunner. If we can get it down to ground level...."

"Sympathetic to the poor souls, as always...."

"As always...," the man with the fire mocked quietly. His fire caught a glint reflecting from the trees, but carefully avoided making any overt gestures to draw attention, instead motioning silently with his head. "Hey, up there...."

"Right...," the bowman agreed, glancing up at the tree. He thought to himself, eyes closed, muttering slightly. The tip of his arrow glowed in response, its magic now readied to use.

Then, in a swift reaction, he aimed and fired the arrow. A clear miss, fired without any time to aim properly, the arrow struck a tree about twenty feet from the resting creature. It exploded in a burst of light, and in a gutteral shriek, the creature fell down to the ground.

The thing righted itself in midair and absorbed the landing through its feet. The two hunters inspected the being closely as it shook its head and blinked repeatedly, its eyes glowing a luminescent blue between each blink.

"A dragon...?" The bowman blurted out in surprise.

"Damn it, of all creatures why does it have to involve a dragon?" The man with the torch mused aloud.

The hapless creature stood up on two legs, still crouching, flexing its stubby claws slowly, its short tail lashed angrily from one leg to the next. Its breathing was labored.

"Get back, if that thing touches you...," the bowman insisted to his comrade.

"I know, the risk is inevitable. Draw your sword," the man with the flame answered as he took his comrade's bow and stood beside him.

The creature jumped them. The hunter with the sword caught the creature's jaws around his gauntleted arm as it knocked him to the ground.

"Let him go!" The other man insisted, dousing the flame and drawing an arrow into the bow, aiming it squarely at the creature. As both their eyes adjusted to the moonlight, the creature gazing back at him, he took a second, closer inspection to the creature.

Sure, it looked dragonlike, but it was too small -- roughly the size of a human. Its neck was too short, its wings seemed shriveled, and its tail far too short. Its scales appeared thin, not armored, covered in tatters of cloth and occasional plated armor. A sheathed sword lay belted about its waist, and a large talisman hung from a necklace about its neck.

A weredragon. No other explanation was possible, it was a weredragon.

"I said let him go!" The man insisted as he drew the bowstring farther back. The creature hissed as it struggled against the man's comrade on the ground.

That talisman... it looked familiar... no, could it be?

"...Draconus? Don't tell me it is you...?" The man wondered aloud, unconsciously lowering his guard at the same time.

That was a mistake -- the weredragon jumped him. The air crackled with magic as it neared -- danger, the man realized -- and he dove to the ground, narrowly avoiding two fists full of claws as they sliced the air above him.

Their magics were conflicting with each other -- the creature's own nature was affecting his own. As the air around him crackled with the two energies, a headache set in, and his right shoulder (though uninjured) seared in pain.

His comrade jumped back up to his feet and closed the distance to him, taking a stand between him and the creature, sword drawn and pointed directly at it as it limped about, its own body in pain as well. "Get back!"

"No... don't...." cried the comrade as the air swirled about him.

"What about you? Did it --"

"Capture... the...."

The hunter grunted unhappily. With one hand on his sword, he reached his other into his pack and slowly withdrew a small pouch containing a measure of powder.

The creature jumped him and knocked him down, and with his free hand, he threw the pouch in the weredragon's face as he simultaneously held his breath. The creature gagged and coughed, quickly withdrawing. The man rolled aside and stood up, watching as the sedative began to kick in. In a few moments, the creature fell to all fours, then to its belly, breathing and gasping heavily, before lapsing into sleep.

It was done. They had captured it.

"Get him... to camp...," the pained comrade strained through his own pains.

"And...? What did it do to you?"

"Just... do it!" He shouted again. "I'll... have to go call up... an old favor...."

The man's visage shuddered in a wave of magical energy. The hunter looked back at him in shock. "It's happening, isn't it? You're going to turn in to one of them!"

"No...," the man answered. "Proximity to... I need to... back away... to fly!"

"Don't!"

"I know what it'll... it'll heal the..." The man shut his eyes, and the air about him rippled again. His body began to glow with magical energy, and then light suddenly burst forth as the enchantment took effect; his coat and arms burst into an array of multicolored feathers, his legs vanished underneath the new pelt, and within another moment, the other swordsman stared no longer at a human comrade, but a bird of prey instead.

"Hang on!" Came a belated response from the hunter. The fiery-colored falcon stepped carefully aside, stretching its wings carefully as it put some distance between it and their captive. It opened its eyes and glanced back to the hunter.

"Are you okay?" The man inquired of the bird. It chirped and nodded, then hopped aside, took another jump, and then with a third leap, it pushed itself skyward upon its glistening wings.

"I hope you know what you're doing," the swordsman said quietly as he watched the avian disappear into the night sky. He cringed as he turned back to their quarry, withdrew a rope from his pack, and proceeded to bind the creature's arms and legs. It would be difficult to carry the weredragon back to camp, but at least, unlike his now soaring comrade, he was immune to the ill magical aura about the creature.

(Yeah, that's on the long side, but I just couldn't stop ) _________________Strata here: Nanowrimo - FAC - dA - FADisclaimer: Posts may contain URLs. Click at your own risk.

The phone rings.
Brrrrrinnnnggg!
Are you gonna answer that? You say, looking at me.
Well, I dunno. That depends.
That depends.
Whos on the line?
Thats always the question.
Every single person has a problem with someone. And when that someone calls, you ask, whos on the line.
Well, its a good question. If you really think about it.
After all, you never know who you could be talking to.
Thats why phones are the subject of many horror movies. The phone rings, and the hero, or usually heroine, as it is, nervously steps forward with her pouty lips and big, baby blues, blond hair and high heels, and fearfully picks up the dreaded phone.
Who could it be?
Hello? shell say, voice high pitched with fright.
A click. A laugh. And the phone is abruptly cut off.
The heroine will stare at the phone in either bewilderment or alarm, and then slowly put the phone back on the hook, manicured nails glistening in the lamp of her huge, dark house.
Ah! The lights. We mustnt forget them. Suddenly, a hum will be heard through the house, and the house, or the lamp, plunges into darkness. The heroine screams in fright right before she dies by the hands of her mysterious phone caller.
Gasp! It had to be that phone that was the death of her, wasnt it?
Yes. The phone. _________________What does it all MEAN?

They're trying to stop a weredragon, and one of their own was turned into a were-something, like a phoenix maybe... And their leader was invulnerable to werecreatures because he's one and no one knows? _________________Best Quote Ever: "B&."- Said by multiple people.

There's a LOT of background info about the situation, but basically, it all hinges on the particular interpretation/application of the were-creature myth. In that world, a were-creature is defined by a transformation spell gone horribly wrong, leaving its user in an altered state somewhere between their normal (usually human) species and animal species. Were-creatures are magically volatile and can cause interference to other transformation spells (usually through physical contact such as a scratch or bite), and if the interference is too great, the other spells will also malfunction, which turns their own users into additional were-creatures as well (like the spreading of a disease). The condition of being a were-creatures was first observed regarding wolves -- leading to the term werewolf -- but it can happen to any user who has been through a transformation spell. Other (normal) individuals, who do not posess the magic of transformation, simply cannot be affected by a were-creature. The condition of being a were-creature can be 'cured' by dispelling the malfunctioning magical energy out of the user, however its success rate depends on how quickly action is taken -- within a day or two of affection, the user can usually be returned to their normal body form, but the more time they spend as a were-creature, the more permanent the condition becomes, ultimately to the point where even if they are cured, their body remains in its altered state forever.

That's why only one man was at risk, because he posessed transformative magic, and the other man did not. _________________Strata here: Nanowrimo - FAC - dA - FADisclaimer: Posts may contain URLs. Click at your own risk.

It begins simply enough.
You're born. Later in life, you die.
Again, simple.
But in between that vastly brief period of time, a lot happens. It's good, it's bad, but it happens.
Most of us wish to be famous. In reality, we are stuck with a dead-end job and a life we despise with a passion, filled with screaming kids and a boring husband/wife.
So when something...Out of the ordinary comes along, we react to it favorably. This is our time to act like we're in a movie, right?
Wrong.
Here are the stories of normal people who get stuck in abnormal situations. Most of the time, they don't live through them.
We live, we die.
Simple, isn't it?
Oh how dreadfully wrong.

Chris leaned against the bar, eyes unfocused and head reeling. He was drunk, obviously. He could hear it in his voice, see it in his gray eyes, feel it in his gut, Jesus his gut was aching, but he ignored it, instead trying to get that one last beer down. That one last sip...

The next thing he knew, the bartender was shouting at him. Frank. Normally Frank was a good guy, but apparently today Chris angered the wrong somebody. He heard himself hollering expletives at Frank, questioning his gender, masculinity, and ancestry, among others before his body soared.

He was out, down, face first in a bunch of filth in the back of an alley. For a second, Chris slumped in the s**t, booze-hazed mind angered, but then he slowly staggered to his feet, and weaved his way out of the darkened alley, entering the smoggy night lights with squinted eyes; the light was giving him a headache from hell.

Chris lurched over to his car, a piece-of-s**t Geo, and was about to get in when he saw a small thing of paper on his windsheild. For a moment, he stared at it, not understanding what it was. Then he swore.

"Goddamn parking ticket--" he stared, growling under his breath and ripping the paper away from his windshield. He was about to throw it violently to the curb when he actually stared at it. And realized that is wasn't a parking ticket. Not at all.

There's a woman in a small shed. In 24 hours she is going to die unless you find her. If you alert the authorities, a young boy, less than three, will be shot in the head and dumped in his parent's living room. If you don't alert the authorities, the woman will be raped and then murdered.
You choose, Chris.
Have a nice day.

Sometimes, I wish that I had never found out. Then I may have just been a prodigy.
No, that would not work. Destiny's beckon is stronger than that. It is sweet and irresistible, like the song of a Siren. But not all lead to a painful death and the questioning of why you were lead astray.
If I regret the past, how can I move on?
I need to do this. I've taken risks before

Eh is wrong. It has good voice and the mystery factor is there. The metaphors are great and descriptive.
I like it.
And ya know, shortness isn't always a bad thing. I'm a windbag myself. _________________What does it all MEAN?

This is for a RolePlay on a different site, I'm curious about what people think of it. The whole thing is centred on this Death Cult who want to control the Legendary Powers and the Legendary Dragons to rule the world.

Anyways: Here goes. These are just rough drafts by the way.

Post #1: This is set after a fight in The Death Cult Chambers where they meant to sacrifice the Powers. Viktoria has pushed Holly in the Sacrificial Abyss, Holly is holding onto an out jutting rock.

Viktoria smiled as Holly hung on to the edge of the Abyss Before I break your fingers and you fall to your death, any last words? she sniggered.
Holly pulled herself up till she was nose to nose with Viktoria.
Yeah, I have last words. she hissed Ill be back, Viktoria. She smiled nastily And you better start praying for death, cause there isnt an Abyss deep enough to bury me.

Her fingers get shattered. The rock didnt crumble. They didnt have to.
Holly let go herself. She fell. She never screamed once.
Only her dragon saw the light die from her eyes.
Perhaps, it was only her Dragon that cared.

Post #2: This is set at Hollys memorial (Had to be Memorial, they dont have a body to bury) Danu is making a speech about Holly.

Danu stood at the podium, she looked at the speech that had been written out for her, and then threw it away. She cleared her throat.
I just read that ready-made speech, its all about her happy, loving, friend-filled life, and I gotta say. What. A. Load. Of. Crap.
Her life wasnt happy and fulfilling. It was nasty and cruel. Danu looked at the church of people.
Holly was a good person. She deserved the best in life. But she never got it.
Wish I could say that she loved and was loved in return. But she wasnt. She was head over heels hopelessly in love with a heartless moron who neither cared nor loved her in any shape or form.
Wish I could say that she was well loved, but she wasnt. Whenever she went to school, she risked hospitalization from girls who picked on her for no reason. Many times she came home bleeding, in agony.
Wish I could say that she had been happy, but thats a horrible lie. She pent most of her life in tears because everyone hated her and no one cared about her, about whether she lived or died.
Wish I could say that I was a good friend to her while she was alive. But I wasnt, and now its too late to say Im sorry. But I'll say it anyway. I'm Sorry, Holly, I'm sorry.

Post #3: This is after the funeral, in the hall. Viktoria is standing in the corner watching everyone. She feels a cold breath on her neck.

Viktoria looked over her shoulder. Nothing. She sighed with relief; Hollys last words had shaken her more then she would like to admit. The breath came again. She peered once more over her shoulder, stared into the shadows. This time it wasnt nothing.
Told you Id be back. Holly whispered, leaning out of the shadows, smiling No Abyss deep enough to bury me.
Victoria screamed.

Sad. Morbid, but interesting as well. Dunno what else to say. I like it. That, actually, would be great to create a short story on. Note the short. It starts, it ends, the bad bitch freaks out, etc. You should elaborate on it.

Something I wrote but fell short with, unfortunetley. It's not cool. I start these great beginnings, and then I croak. Grrr...
Oh well.
Here it is:

Obsession

The old man watched patiently.

He waited.

Every day, from the plaintive whispers of dawn to the booming announcement of dusk, he sat on his bench, dressed according to the season.

And waited.

His eyes would always focus on the same spot, the same tree, every single day. And like a dog waiting for permission to feed from its master, he would wait. So patiently.

Ever so patiently.

Ever so calmly.

His wife left him not too long after the obsession began. She tried to coax him out of his constant watching; his curiosity with something she thought didnt exist. But then finally, the final straw was upheld, raised aloof and then thrown to the ground. He came home from his faithful watching to find his house devoid of his wife. There had been a simple note left on the refrigerator, scrawled in tiny, black letters that one could sense were filled with despair. The note read:

Forget.

But he could not. Couldnt she see that? Forgetting something he knew happened would ruin his life. He knew it was out there.

He knew.

But the fact that others denied it only frightened him even more. Frightened him to the point that he watched every day.

Freaky awesome. It has a mind-twisting value to it. And since we're on the topic of mind-twisting...

The was soft laughter from the top floor of the house. Past a set of golden doors, embroidered with silver, and locked tightly behind bars and chains, there was a large bed, taking up a good half of the huge room. Spread all over the soft, blue covers were stuffed animals of every size and shape, real and imaginary. There was young girl holding a toy rabbit, her face was round and childish and her gold curls bounced up and down as she flopped back onto the pillow. She giggled like the small child she was and turned over to look at her toy.

"Bunny, I had a weird dream again," she said, lifting the stuffed rabbit into her arms and holding it, staring at the canopy above her bed, "There was the small boy with rabbit ears and a rabbit tail there again. What have I told you about entering my dreams? You'll hurt yourself." The toy did not reply, but the girl laughed, as if it had said something funny, "I don't care how powerful you once were, or how funny you were, you cannot enter my world. My power is in my dreams," the girl threw the toy up and caught it, bopping it lightly on the nose, "One day, you never know when you'll get...destroyed." As she finished her sentence she tightened her grip on the toy and loud boom was followed as the stuffed animal's head completely exploded. The girl giggled and pick up one of the cotton ears, "I warned you bunny."

A loud, angry wail came from the remains as a blue wind rose from the toy and whipped about the room, taking the form of a dagger and hurling itself at the girl. The small child laughed and put her hand out, where another explosion came out of, ripping the blue wind to peices, and destorying it. She turned to her other toys and shook her head sadly, "See what happened to bunny? My dreams are my worlds, and although it's the only way out..." she stopped to grab a small stuffed dragon and throw it into the air, "You'll never escape that way. So I suggest you don't try to enter my world again, dragon."

Pretty good. Your descriptions are good. It reminds me of the third Pokemon movie.

Kekyf forced her chestnut hair away from her watering eyes.
"Get a grip... she tried to kill you," she told herself sternly. But still Kekyf cried.
She had just sat back and watched her sister die. She could've stopped the battle with a scream or shout... but part of Kekyf had wanted Voju to die for what she had done.
Kekyf leant back in the tree, taking in a deep breath. She raised the circular ruby necklace before her fiery-orange eyes.
"Voju died to protect this for me. Why? It's just a necklace. Nothing special, really,' Kekyf asked herself. She found comfort in her own voice.
Hands shaking, Kekyf undid the necklace's clamps. She placed either side of the chain around her neck.
Seconds passed. There was nothing. No magical reaction at all.
"Maybe..." Kekyf started. She scanned the forest and spotted a lone bush. Kekyf glared at it, focusing all her unknown hate.
"Vesv!" Kekyf swore. Her eyes reflected the flames.

"And here I shall place the tree that will unite our peoples, for all eternity".
The old man dug calmly into the ground and dropped the seed into it. He covered it back up and walked over to their new allies.
"May we be friends for all eternity" he said warmly, holding out a large hand. The younger man glanced at it, then took it, a broad smile twisting his lips "For eterinity".
Soon the tree grew, and what had once been a tiny seed was now a great oak. But tribes of the ancient age were losing their grip on territory as new alliances were made and conflicts were formed. The tree would soon mean nothing to the tribes people.

Keiro had died long ago and new cheif, Kikandya, was becoming restless as enemy tribes probed the boundaries of their land. Their allies, the felren, had been in open war for many moons and now was the time to act.

"We cannot do it, cheif kikandya" argued an older advisor, bowing infront of their cheif respectfully.
"I value your advise, wise one, but do it we must, our peoples are at risk"
"But it will cost you dearly"
"And we will deal with it in times to come"
"But what if the duty falls to someone else, someone less capable"
"Then it shall fall" said Kikandya darkly, curling his hand into a tight fist. _________________I came
I saw
I ripped over a damn rock.

Man, are we obsessed with mind-games and violence or what?
Hey. Makes for a good story, so what can I say?
@Matt: Interesting idea. In a few short paragraphs you gave us the inciting incident and everything. However (I just learned this a few days ago) when you make a new paragraph, hit enter twice so that it's easier to descipher the writing. I got a little lecture on it and now am an expert....
Not.

Wait, here's something new. This is in script format. Based it off my friend.T tell me if it's easy to understand (compared to normal writing)

Secret

Int. School Upper Hallway #1Day

GIRL in jeans and a shirt strides down the hall, away from the camera. Her back is to us. The hallway is deserted. Clearly this is during class period. As she walks:

HELENA(VO)
Do you or dont you?
Do what?
You know.

Int. School Staircase #1-Day

GIRL walks down stairs quickly. Shes trying to keep cool but is also in a rush to get somewhere...But where? Camera goes out of focus and stays in the shot as GIRL leaves frame.

HELENA(VO cont)
The answer.
Do you or dont you.
Know.
(pause)
Why is this not simple?

Ext. School Grounds-Day

Amid a dreary sky above, GIRL walks rapidly across the grounds, towards the street and, across that, a small batch of woods. There are no cars. She looks behind her and on both sides of the street before running across to the woods.

The Pit-Day

We follow as GIRL walks behind a few trees to an outcropping of stumps and tree limbs. From
GIRL SHOULDER POV
We see that there are a few kids here, loafing about on various stumps and branches. They look like stoners, pot-heads and miscellaneous vagrants of society. The typical teenage bums. They grin when she comes into view. We have not seen her face yet and will not during this scene. She gives a big smile to them and as a few abruptly stand up to hug her she hugs them back. Meanwhile, ever present in the background noise:
HELENA (VO cont)
Why dont you know? Again: Do you or dont you?
(beat)
This question...So simple.
(pause)
Yet unanswered.

The Pit-Day

The vagrants are all pumped for what they met here to do. We see one of the older ruffians grin as the others sit down and laugh. They all crowd into a lumpy circle. From
GIRLS SHOULDER POV
We see the needles glisten as RUFFIAN #1 reaches to his side and grabs a backpack. Slowly it opens and he reaches in gingerly, coming out with seven glistening needles. Ah. The fix is not your average weed. Heroin. The tough stuff. Quickly RUFFIAN #1 hands out the needles. The random vagrants snatch at the drugs eagerly, GIRL not discluded from the frenzy.
FAST FORWARD
In time a little bit. We see that some of the vagrants look more relaxed. One with the World. GIRL hasnt needled herself yet. She stands up and looks over, laughing at some joke that one of the vagabonds have said. We see her head tip back and a chuckle come from her throat. As shes laughing shes taking the needle and drawing it close to the vein in her right arm. She flexes the muscle and wraps a scrunchie tightly around the muscle to get the vein to stick out.
ZOOM IN
on the needle as it comes ever so closely to her armBefore pausing. Meanwhile:

ZOOM IN ON NEEDLE
The needle is just inches from pricking GIRLs skin and injecting pure joy into her system. But then it stops.
ZOOM UP INTO
GIRLs iris. The pupil has suddenly dilated and we hear her gasp.
HELENA (VO cont)
That unconscious little shift, that change in the air.
It was so little.
(pause)
But you told me that you were lying.
(beat)
Now, another question:

GIRLS POV-day
We see, in the distance, a tall figure, just a shadow, staring at GIRL. Its shape is fuzzy. We cannot tell if it is a guy or a girl. All we know is that it has come across to something it was not supposed to see.
PULL DOWN AND OUT
To see the needle gripped in GIRLs hand suddenly go limp.
SLOW MOTION
As the needle slowly drops out of GIRLs hand and begins to fall, in a graceful arc, to the ground. We wind
BACK TO NORMAL TIME
As the glass explodes across the dirt surface and the camera pulls back up to the mysterious shape in the distance.

Thanks for the tip megan, I'll try it now.
In some ways that was clearer than normal and in others, no. The dialogue got a bit confusing, because I couldn't figure out if a new line meant new person? Or maybe thats just me? probably.
I had an idea for an opening chapter to something I might write.

The dark was closing in. She wouldn't make it to the falls before the night's icy veil engulfed the lands.

Sighing heavily, she hoisted her pack up a few inches, and continued onwards. The cold air set in on her and she was forced to retreat to the cover of some trees. Actually they were more than 'some' trees, they extended back as far as the eye could see.

Shivering in the crisp air, she sat down, once again pondering the question that had plagued her all her life.

Who was she? What was her purpose? And most of all, what was her name?
She unfastened the metal strap to her army green pack, pulling out a blanket and a tinderbox.

She quickly gathered a number of logs that surrounded her, and cut off some of the older branches with her sword. Then, she set about prepring a fire, and a meal.

And when she was done, she poured the gloopy brown luiquid into her dish, and stabbed a fork into it.

Her cold body welcomed the hot food with a glow that made her feel warmer, so she kept on eating. She was hurrying to finish the food, but all to soon it was gone.

She sighed again, prodding the fire slowly with a stick. Suddenly the stick caught alight and was thrust back into the heart of the fire. _________________I came
I saw
I ripped over a damn rock.

Good job. Does this woman have amnesia? It's a nice beginning, good flow, description, and insighting incident. The paragraphs are now more easy to descipher thanks to the trusty dusty enter button.
~~~
It was a simple act that elevated into violence. I saw him turn towards me, slowly, like he was just glancing around to enjoy the scenery, colorless eyes expressionless and aristocratic face blank, and then a hand flashed into his pocket and came out with something I never wanted to see.

Knife.

And it was directed towards me.

I don't know how I saw it, felt it, knew it was there, but I launched myself backwards, away from the guy, and bolted, ducking and dodging through tables in an effort to get away. He wasn't screaming; nor did he alert anyone that I knew he was there.

He simply sheathed the knife, smoothed down his jacket, and started to amble towards me. I didn't see him, running as fast as I was away, but I knew, deep down, that he was changing tactics. Something in the back of my head whispered gun, and I ran.

I exploded out of the hotel like the hounds of Hades were at my heels. _________________What does it all MEAN?